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Winter: Let’s Talk White and Thin Privilege

Created from a photo:
The author as a young person -- circa 1969
_________________

(This
chapter isn’t quite where I want it, and I’m not sure if it will make the final
cut into my book, but I thought I’d toss it out there.)

My
husband Jerry and I entered the gleaming, dripping in money medical center,
located in a tony neighborhood near Timonium, Maryland.

Jerry
was dressed in a striped shirt and Khakis; I wore a sports tee-shirt and denim clamdigger
leggings – way underdressed for our expensive surroundings (I didn’t care – I
wore a pretty necklace, what more should they want?).

We
had been there just once before – not quite familiar with the building layout –
so we must have looked slightly confused.

I
had to use the facilities, but I knew that the restrooms had to be accessed via
a security code.

“You
remember what the code is?” I asked Jerry.

Before
he could answer, a lady ahead of us looked back and said, “Oh, it’s **** for
the ladies’ room and **** for the men’s.”

Casually
and without hesitation.

We
had never met her.

Think
about that: we were strangers.

We
thanked her and went about our business.

Encounters
like this happen every day; we don’t think about them – they are just small
moments paving the way for an easier path through life.

But
what we experienced was an example of subtle White Privilege. On the fly,
assumptions had been made about us: an average white couple who looked like
they belonged in that medical center.

Never
mind that we could have been unsavory characters, albeit white, up to no good.

The
sad part: in most of these encounters, white people don’t even recognize their
White Privilege status – which is part of the problem.

At
first, I didn’t, even though I was in the middle of writing this chapter and
thinking a lot about it!

It
was only after Jerry’s appointment that – DING, DONG! – it hit me.

I
asked Jerry if he had observed a recent instance of White Privilege.

He
had not.

He
looked surprised when I pointed it out – and then his aha! moment.

You
see, we need to be reminded about privilege, and, more important, we should listen
to our minority friends and peers when they tell us that, yes, they are treated
differently than we are.

That
an African-American stranger, especially one not dressed for the occasion – you
know, tees and clamdiggers – probably would have been treated differently in
that medical center.

At
the very least, that lady would have told an African-American couple that they
could get the bathroom code from their doctor’s office.

Most
likely, she would have ignored them.

If
the man had been wearing a hoodie, she might have had a visceral reaction.

Might
she even report the man as being out of place? Perhaps to a custodian or to a
receptionist – if his actions seemed out of place, even the police.

So
what does White Privilege have to do with Thin Privilege?

Hang
with me – I’m getting there, albeit via twists and turns.

For
now, keep this in mind: if you are fat or have ever been fat, you understand Thin
Privilege all too well. It’s not quite the same, of course – navigating life
while Fat is not going to be fraught with fears of dying by violence while
living day-to-day as Black.

But
fat people understand clear instances of Thin Privilege, always easier to note
when one doesn’t enjoy it.

Let’s
begin with White Privilege.

In
2017, the “Us” and “Them” camps seem more divided than ever.

As
I write this, a great debate rages whether “taking the knee” at sporting events
is a valid form of protest or a sign of disrespect against the flag and the
military.

It
started in August 2016, when Colin Kaepernick, then of the 49’ers, decided to
sit out the National Anthem to protest the treatment of African Americans,
particularly the police killings of black men and some women, many who were not
even suspects.

Since
then, Kaepernick’s means of protest has evolved into kneeling on one knee during
“The Star-Spangled Banner,” and has spread throughout the NFL (National
Football League), adopted mostly by African-American players.

The
“Us” side: mostly white people dripping with White Privilege who believe that
not standing with hand over heart is the ultimate insult to flag, country, and
veterans.

The
“Them” side: mostly African Americans who do not enjoy White Privilege and have
a genuine societal beef, insisting that taking the knee is not disrespectful to
the troops or anyone else but a valid protest of racism and mistreatment.

This
very topic came up recently in a setting of all white people, most agreeing
that if one does not stand for the national anthem, he or she should be
arrested and charged with a crime.

“That
would go against the First Amendment,” I said.

“Not
standing for our national anthem is un-American,” one person said.

“Peaceful
protest is American and patriotic.” I reminded them that the
First Amendment protects the voice of the minority, because the majority voice does
not need protecting, that it’s easy to speak out when just about everyone
agrees with you.

In
other words, it doesn’t take courage to parrot the majority view.

The
room grew silent.

I
was hoping that some insight had seeped into their brains.

But,
no.

One
woman piped up: “Well, it’s just disrespectful.”

The
others agreed, and the subject was changed.

Sigh.

After
reading Roxane Gay’s stunning memoir Hunger, I was struck just how much covert racism still exists –

Hell,
these days, forget about covert; particularly in the age of Trump, it seems
that overt and ugly racism is on the rise – a day doesn’t go by that some
outrageous act of violence against an African American hasn’t been reported on
the news: Trayvon Martin, Freddie Gray, Michael Brown, Eric Garner – iconic
names for all the wrong reasons.

In
August 2017, the remarks of Lt. Greg Abbott, of the Cobb County Police Department (Georgia), seemed to confirm that African Americans are being targeted
by the police: Abbott was caught on his dashcam telling a white woman during a
traffic stop not to worry. “…You’re not black,” he said. “Remember, we only kill black
people. Yeah. We only kill black people, right?” (1)

While
I could offer a grocery list of atrocities perpetuated against minorities in
the past five years, I won’t – this is beyond the scope of my book.

I’m
not sure what first drew me to Ms. Gay’s memoir; certainly, the title was a
draw – aren’t fat people constantly hungry and not always for food?

I
must have known that her life story would somehow resonate with me, although I
had never heard of her or seen her photo – I didn’t even know her race, which,
as I began reading, assumed was white. I was pretty much into the book before
it dawned on me that the author was brown, when she began weaving into her
narrative stories about her background and family.

Had
I known this fact, would I still have selected this book?

I’d
like to think so, but I can’t say for sure.

But
I’m glad I did.

My
eyes were opened wide to what Ms. Gay has experienced as both a minority and an
obese person. Add Lesbian to the mix, she has won the trifecta of what can make
a life a living hell.

Not
only has the author experienced fat discrimination, but she has also had to
navigate a world that still discriminates against brown people and other
minorities.

While
Gay does not offer diet advice – she warns readers that they should not read
her memoir for “inspiration” – it was the impetus for this book.

So
at least one reader has been “inspired.”

After
writing Memoir Madness, I swore up and down that since the rest of my life has been relatively normal
(translation: too boring for readers), I would not inflict my minute woes on a
general audience.

I
mean, how could my experience as an entitled white woman ever top Ms. Gay’s
experience as a fat Lesbian Brown American?

But
after reading Gay’s painful account of her life, I realized that I needed to write this book, irrespective
of audience interest –

I
would write it, and maybe they would come – or not.

Lately,
I have been thinking a lot about White Privilege, perhaps because of Hungerand the current political
climate, which has encouraged white nationalists and blatant racists to crawl
out of their hidey holes and into the light.

Although
this unearned perk favors me, a whiter than white person, it irks me that White
Privilege exists.

It
shouldn’t exist, but it does.

And
while it’s obvious to people of color, most white people are clueless,
preferring to believe that after 50-plus years of civil rights we should now dismantle
the mechanisms currently in place to protect the rights of minorities.

Voting
rights? Done.

Head
Start programs? Don’t need them anymore.

Affirmative
Action? Not fair to white people.

Improving
racial attitudes? African Americans need
to get over themselves and start pulling themselves up by the bootstraps and
stop whining about systemic racism.

I
hear this list of Civil Rights progress all the time, usually accompanied by a
long sigh and the ubiquitous eye roll.

Of
course, much progress has been made,
but I fear that this era of regression, which, if allowed to continue its
current trajectory, may spark another Civil War and spell the doom of this
country.

Let’s
just consider some ways in which being white affords people an easier passage
through American life.

As
someone who experiences White Privilege, I will never be pulled over by the
police while driving White. In fact, I have never
been pulled over at all (knock on wood), and I have been driving for over 40
years.

If
I am pulled over – because of a real
infraction – I’m probably not going to get beat up, shot, or even killed. I
might just get a warning, especially if I am young, female, and beautiful (Youth Privilege?).

When
I shop, I will never be tailed by store security while being White. If I am
caught stealing, it’s because security saw me stuff merchandise under my
blouse. Chances are, I would get off easier than an African-American male,
perhaps even just a warning.

If
I am ever questioned by the police regarding a crime, the officers will not
automatically assume I’m guilty of something nefarious just because of the
color of my skin – they will study the evidence to decide if I’m a suspect. If
I am convicted of a crime, I am more likely to receive a lighter sentence than
an African-American woman.

No
one will ever cross the street because he or she fears me, even if I’m wearing a
hoodie and eating Skittles in the “wrong” neighborhood.

No
one would ever claim that I was awarded my Fulbright just because of my
whiteness. I can be reasonably assured that others believe that I earned that
award because of my carefully-prepared application, good references, teaching
experience, and writing talent, not because of my skin color.

No
one would question my intelligence based on my white skin – unlike the
brilliant President Obama who suffered an onslaught of insults and abuse from
white-trash bumpkins because of his skin color.

Even
though I can acknowledge the existence of White Privilege, I have no idea what
it would be like to drive a car or walking while being Black – I mean, really know. Feel it –

Although,
early last spring, I got a small taste of what it must be like going through
life without White Privilege.

It
so unnerved me that I posted about the experience, both on Facebook and my main
blog Like This Page:

Today, I got an inkling of what it must be like being an African American
in the United States of America.

It was cold and raw today, so I wore my hoodie
and mittens.

As I was checking my phone before finishing up
my walk, I heard this angry voice behind me:

“Hello? Hello? Can I help you with something?”

At first, I ignored it – he couldn’t possibly be
speaking to me. I didn’t know him, and he had no reason to speak to me like
that.

Again, he yelled, “I said, ‘Hello, can I help
you with something?’”

Confused, I turned around, and said, “No, I’m
fine.”

A young man – maybe mid-20’s – in shorts and a tee-shirt,
stopped short, obviously embarrassed. He slunk away.

Why this happened didn’t hit me until I was
about two blocks away; yes, this is what it’s like being white in America – on
a visceral level, we just don’t get what African Americans experience every
day.

It took me two blocks to figure it all out, and
that is sad.

So
what does White Privilege have to do with Thin Privilege?

While
there are major differences between the two Privileges, there are some
significant similarities.

I’m
an expert when it comes to Thin Privilege: I have both enjoyed it and been
denied it – mostly denied, given that a disproportionate part of my life has
been spent existing while fat.

Thin
people glide through life effortlessly, at least on a superficial level – this
is not to say that life is all roses and smiles for the Thin – thin people
still have bills to pay, children to raise, careers to manage, problems to
solve, and marriages to work at – but the Fat have a whole other level to
navigate, which I have discussed in Spring: Fat Woman Body.

As
I write this chapter, I am technically a thin person, so I now experience Thin
Privilege.

I
would define Thin Privilege as a societal perk experienced by people who are deemed
to be average size – you’ll know it when you see it – just as White Privilege has
been granted de facto upon by white
people by virtue of their skin color, not by their characters and actual
accomplishments.

As
a thin person, I have shucked a cloak of unwanted visibility – I can “pass” as
an average person, I can weave in and out of a crowd without drawing negative
attention – or any other kind of attention. At first contact, my body size no
longer defines me, unless I choose to emphasize my exterior – if I want to be
“visible,” I can dress the part by wearing flamboyant or even slinky and
revealing outfits. Given my natural inclination toward shyness and modesty,
this isn’t a likely scenario. But that’s not the point – the point is: I am now
able to choose when, how, where – or if – I want to be visible.

I
can blend or stand out – I can choose to not be preoccupied with my size and
shape and concentrate on my real interests and hobbies, for example, writing
this book.

In
short, I no longer need to worry about being judged because of my size.

For
anyone who has never been fat, this may not seem to be a big deal, but I assure
you that it is – the fact that my size is not the first thing people notice is
such a relief; how I present myself is totally up to me, not by my dimensions.

Thin
Privilege means being able to pay reasonable prices for my size of clothing,
and I can expect to find stylish clothes in any department or discount store –
no more shops or departments specializing in plus-sizes.

Thin
people are viewed as being more intelligent, energetic, and ambitious than
their fat peers. Also, thin people are not perceived as looking sloppy or
unprofessional based solely on their size. As a result, thin people are more
likely to be promoted at work and given larger raises.

I
no longer receive unwanted suggestions from friends, family, and even strangers
about joining a weight-loss program. If anything, people are now likely to push
more food my way, along with a concerned warning not to overdo my weight-loss.
“Surely you can eat whatever you want now,” they’ll say as they shove a piece
of chocolate cake under my nose.

Uh,
no. It doesn’t work that way for a Fat Woman Walking.

As
a thin person going to the doctor, I no longer dread the scale, even though I
swear that my doctor’s office has set its scale at least five pounds too heavy.
My doctor no longer automatically monitors me for diabetes, high blood
pressure, high cholesterol, or other “weight-related” maladies. If anything,
she warns me not to lose any more weight. “You’re perfect just the way you
are.” – music to my ears, although I would still like to shed that last five
pounds.

Shhh!
Don’t narc me out.

The
media don’t describe my thinness as part of an “epidemic” – a bit too
breathless of a pronouncement, in my opinion, regarding larger body shapes.

Not
all heavy people are unhealthy, just as not all thin people enjoy robust
health.

I
no longer need to scope out public spaces to make certain that I will fit into
them – I fit into all chairs, with or without arms, and the narrowest of
restaurant booths. If anything, wooden and metal chairs just about kill my
tailbone and back – okay, now I’m just complaining about minor inconveniences
suffered by thin people.

A
thin person can navigate a buffet line and pile her plate as high as possible,
and no scrutinizing food police will come a-calling. In fact, she will receive
looks of admiration, tinged with envy that say, “That lucky duck can eat
whatever she wants!”

Note
that I use the third person here because if I
eat whatever I want, I can expect to gain at least five pounds. Overnight. And
kick in an indefinite binge, perhaps lasting years.

Thin
Privilege can have its downsides as well – for one, unwanted sexual attention
by strangers and peers. Even women “of a certain age” have experienced
inappropriate comments by men who, somehow, believe that all women are fair
game and that “Take a Hike” doesn’t apply to them. Even as a thin female senior
citizen, I’m no great beauty, but that doesn’t seem to matter – my thin body
seems to attract the skeezy underside of the opposite sex.

White
and Thin Privilege share this commonality: both are based solely on superficial
attributes: skin color and body size, nothing more.

Those
who do not enjoy Privilege of either kind are treated differently, and not in positive
ways, and those who enjoy both are often unaware of how easily they glide
through life, at the expense of non-privileged folks.

While
I have somewhat of an insight into the existence of White Privilege, I cannot really know and feel, on a visceral level,
its lack – all I can do: remain aware and vigilant about my own beliefs,
biases, prejudices, racism (yes, even self-aware people are still prejudiced
and racist, at least on some level), and to constantly question my own motives
and knee-jerk reactions to uncomfortable situations.

One
cannot earn “White Privilege”: you either have it or not – it has been
automatically granted or denied, based solely on skin color.

Fair?

Of
course not, but that’s what happens in the United States of America.

Depending
on circumstances, “Thin Privilege” can
be “earned,” by the process of losing weight, but, often, it is unearned – if someone has been thin
for her entire life, then she has no idea what it is like not experiencing Thin
Privilege, except to think,

“There by the grace of God, go I.”

Let’s
now consider some ways in which being white, albeit still fat, offers an easier
passage through American life.

As
a fat white person, I will never be pulled over by the police while driving
Fat.

If
I am pulled over – because of a real
infraction – I’m probably not going to get beat up, shot, or even killed. I
will likely get a ticket and, perhaps, an accompanying eyeroll, but I will
leave the encounter pretty much intact, albeit a lighter wallet and a few
points on my driving record. As I said earlier, a thin, white person could very
well get a warning instead of a ticket, especially if the offender is also
pretty and young – once again, Youth Privilege?

When
I shop, I might be tailed by store security while being Fat – but only if my size
raises suspicions of merchandise hidden under my clothing. Even so, unless I am
caught stuffing stolen goods under my
blouse, I will not be apprehended. If I am
caught, I would likely get off easier than an African-American male, perhaps
even just a warning – that is, if it’s a first offense.

If
I am ever questioned by the police regarding a crime, the officers will not
automatically assume I’m guilty of something nefarious just because I’m fat –
they will study the evidence to decide if I’m a suspect. If I am convicted of a
crime, I am more likely to receive a lighter sentence than an African-American
woman.

No
one will ever cross the street because he or she fears me, even if I’m wearing
a hoodie, although I might be mocked for eating Skittles while walking Fat.

No
one would ever claim that I was awarded my Fulbright just because of my fatness.
I can be reasonably assured that others believe that I earned that award
because of my carefully-prepared application, good references, teaching
experience, and writing talent, not because of my size, although some
unenlightened folks might wonder how a fat person could win any prestigious award.

While
being Fat, job applicants or employees may be passed over for jobs or promotions
– such prejudice is subtle and largely unprovable, but fat people recognize it
when they experience it.

Unlike
minorities, fat people are not protected by Federal, State, or Local law.

Unfortunately,
some privileged folks might question, on a subconscious level, the intelligence
of fat people – this is borne out in popular media (TV, movies, books, and
comics), where fat people are often depicted as lazy, stupid, bumbling,
unaware, and/or comedic – something shared with African Americans.

As
a chubby elementary school pupil, I was treated as if I had limited
intelligence, especially after moving to Iowa from California, where the 1950’s
public school system was in deep financial trouble – in second grade, I was
going to school for only half days – lagging far behind the excellent Catholic
school system in Sioux City I found myself trying to navigate. It was only
after my sixth-grade teacher discovered my advanced reading level that I was no
longer labelled as “slow.” To my chagrin, I was assigned more challenging work.

I
have always “enjoyed” White Privilege; I don’t know any differently – it would
be too easy to assume that my human experience is universally enjoyed, to stick
my head in the sand, and not acknowledge the truth of the black experience in
daily American life.

But
I have also been denied “Thin Privilege” – certainly not as powerful as “White
Privilege” and, with its lack, not as potentially fatal.

Long
after I have finished reading Hunger, the book has stuck with me – I cannot fathom how Roxane Gay has navigated her
life with her triple whammy, quadruple if you add “woman.”

Yet
she has managed to carve out a significant writing career, two best sellers,
and a rigorous public speaking tour, all while being African American, Lesbian,
Fat – and Female – no way does she intend to fold up her tent and hide.

Unlike
the fat me, who pretty much hid from public life.

Part
of that may have to do with my natural shyness and reticence – though I am more outgoing as a thin person.

Still,
I’ll never win any awards for being Ms. Social Butterfly of the Year.

While
writing about my journey has helped tremendously, I must recognize that my
experience pales that of Roxane Gay’s.

Quite
simply, in life, I was dealt a more conventional hand.

I
must continue writing about my experience – my pain is still my pain – but I
now do so knowing that my journey toward physical and mental health will be
less fraught with traumas, and, therefore, the burden I carry will be lighter.

I
can only imagine the heavy burden borne by Ms. Gay – I admire her fortitude and
unwillingness to allow White and Thin Privilege to stop her from what she wants
out of her life.

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eating whatever I wanted and couch surfing in front of the boob tube for the
rest of my life. BODY: That was
before the sleep apnea and the CPAP. ME: What of it? BODY: This is the “what”:
Do you want to balloon into one of those 400-pound people who will absolutely die
without being hooked up, 24/7, to a breathing machine? ME: That will
never happen to me… BODY: Yeah? You
said that back in 2011, when you started regaining your weight. ME: It’s not that
bad; the CPAP technician said I had just a mild case of sle…

(I
wrote this on June 8, 2011, mostly as a reminder to be kinder to myself – fat
or thin.“This
Time Would be Different,” I told myself: I would keep the weight off.Unfortunately,
I regained most of it.A
reminder to take nothing for granted.A
reminder to celebrate life, no matter what, because the tomorrow we are given
may not be the tomorrow we expected – or wanted.In
fact, tomorrow is not guaranteed.) Dear Friends, Be kind to your former
self. Love her, love him. Don’t be so hard on that
person who decided to take matters seriously and lose weight and gain a
healthier body. Remember, it was that brave person who made an important decision
to spend a significant amount of money and admit publicly that he or she
needed help. Do you remember that day
so many months ago, how tentative you felt about going to Weight Watchers (or whatever
program you selected) and how it all seemed so difficult and impossible? Do you remember hiding
in the back of the room, trying not to be noticed? Well, you ca…